


tying up loose ends

by thir13enth



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, I am, and yes, hahaha, i'm talking to you, if you think you know what i'm referring to, only because i can tag it haha, re: sleep strangler, ropes and chokes, the hilclaude is implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23971957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: all is fair in love and war — including debt. balthus finds himself roped into sneaky situation.
Relationships: Hilda Valentine Goneril/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 28





	tying up loose ends

**Author's Note:**

> the math is clear: a + b = c
> 
> a. claude probably has a steady supply of rope for choking reasons (see: grasp my throat)  
> b. balthus had a sleep strangler visit him in the night after challenging hilda's suitors
> 
> therefore c. hilclaude

Balthus has always been and always will be a light sleeper.

Tonight, he wakes up to the squeak of his door hinge — the one he purposefully decided not to fix, or at least that’s what he tells himself. He has neither the money to buy proper grease nor a good control of his appetite to _not_ eat the metal if he actually smeared old frying oil or butter over it like that Aegir kid does with the armor.

But instead of sitting up immediately to crush whatever intruder is in his room, he lies there, as still as possible and resisting the urge to see who dare challenge him in his sleep!

Ever since two days ago when Balthus climbed onto the table after a very healthy and protein-rich breakfast — much to the dismay of Yuri, Hapi, and Constance — and announced to the entirety of Garreg Mach that any and all of Hilda’s suitors must first get through him in battle, Balthus found himself facing a multitude of attacks. Some of his opponents are brave enough (read: stupid enough) to challenge him head on, only their fragile egos as defense. Others choose to just plain drop down from the branches of his favorite tree to nap under, attempting to surprise assault him.

All of these love goons failed, of course.

Balthus takes great pride in his mark-less victories; he emerges from every battle without a single bruise or scratch to show off for later. And while usually Balthus feels best when he _does_ come out of fights black, blue, and bloody, he also doesn't mind proving over and over again that he is, indeed, the Great King of Grappling while at the same time ensuring high expectations for Hilda’s love interest.

That said, it’s been a _while_ since Balthus has heard a single sound after his door creaked open.

Hm… whoever this person is — that is, if this person is _still_ in his room — they certainly are soft on their feet. Also, at the very least, smart enough to not take Balthus hand-to-hand. Eyes closed, Balthus resists the urge to smile.

He likes this person already.

Intent on maintaining a sleeping facade, Balthus almost completely misses the sudden, eerie, loud silence and looming presence over his body. He freezes then, making extra sure his face remains as serene as possible, not a furrow in his eyebrows or even the slightest curl at the corner of his lips.

A faint earthy incense aroma wafts over his nose. Balthus can’t quite put a finger on the smell, but he _knows_ he knows who it is.

But who?

Thinking… thinking… Wait —

Balthus reminds himself to hold his breath, forcing slow and shallow breaths as if still in deep slumber. Very hard to do when he’s _not_ sleeping and in fact, incredibly excited to see what plans his current contender thought of to defeat him.

A rustle of clothing, a soft thunk a few inches above his pillow, then the unmistakable zip of a cable — or at the very least some kind of thin braided rope. Balthus pieces the sounds together in his head — all this can only mean one thing: Whoever this person is, this person is absolutely trying to strangle him!

Balthus takes another slow inhale, waiting as he feels one of the bottom corners of the pillow lift. Anticipating the same to happen on the opposite side of his pillow, Balthus makes sure to keep his exhale soft, knowing his contender will inevitably reach a hand over his face to get to the other side.

And as this person reaches over — a crack of the wrist!

Even Balthus can feel his strangler’s sudden alarm at the unsolicited sound in the small tense pause in the air. After another long second, as Balthus expected, the other corner of his pillow lifts. Then, the soft drop of a cable onto his chest.

And now… if Balthus was keeping accurate track of everything, all the preparations are now settled! Now is his chance!

Balthus waits one, two, three seconds before he snaps his eyes open.

“Got you!” he bellows — eyes searching for the perpetrator.

His eyes lock onto bright green eyes and a confident smirk.

“Claude!” Balthus exclaims, sitting up immediately. “I _knew_ —”

But he forgets the loop around his neck, and he chokes himself on his way up.

Huh? When did this get—

Oh, right, right, he reminds himself. He’s so excited about finding out who dared challenge him for Hilda’s hand that he’s completely forgot he’s in the middle of getting strangled.

“Got you!” he repeats, as if re-starting the last few seconds. This time, he makes sure to catch the cable loop. He dramatically pulls it over his head, then pointing at Claude.

“More like _you_ got yourself,” Claude chuckles, with a raise of his eyebrow. He leans on his knee, propped at the foot of the bed frame, peering over at Holst.

“I should’ve known it was you with all your… sneaky tactics!”

Claude’s smile grows bigger. “Sneaky, that I sure am.”

The cable catches in one of the tangles of his hair, and Balthus shakes it out, tossing aside the noose. “You know, before you showed up, I wasn’t sure if you’d actually come by to challenge me,” he mumbles, smoothing back his hair. “Wasn’t sure if a smart guy like you would actually take me seriously when I said that stuff about getting through me to get to Hilda.”

“Hm, I’m not as smart as I seem after all,” Claude teases. He then opens his mouth like he’s about to add something, but shrugs off the extra words.

“Well?” Balthus asks, motioning for Claude to come forward. “Aren’t you going to defeat me? Take me out while we’re in the middle of a conversation? Or maybe you have _another_ trick up your sleeves?” Upon saying this, Balthus looks up, almost instinctively shielding himself from whatever might suddenly drop down from the ceiling.

Claude laughs, lifting his foot from the bed frame and standing up straight. “Nah, I’m done here,” he says, turning to the door.

“Wait, that’s it?” Balthus asks, befuddled. “If that was all you had, why didn’t you just pull the cord while I was still down?”

“Oh,” Claude replies, matter-of-fact. “You weren’t actually sleeping. I could tell you were just taking it easy on me. And that’s no fun at all. If I’m going to sneak up on you, I’m going to make sure that I’m not caught doing it. I got to learn how to be a little bit more sneaky, you know? Make it fair and square.”

Balthus nods his head slowly to agree. “Sounds a little funny when ‘fair and square’ means I’m unconscious, but I like your attitude.” Balthus trails off, thinking to the side for a moment. Isn’t Claude the one that—

Claude watches him for a full second before starting his way out again. “Well, see you around—”

“You’re the one that’s half-Almyran, aren’t you?”

If Claude is surprised, he doesn’t show it. He swallows. “Yes, actually. Guess you figured it out.”

Balthus shrugs. “Eh, just a hunch. And then I just remember hearing about how your mom—”

“Okay, I don’t need to know _how_ you know,” Claude interrupts him. “I’d rather not talk about that with you.”

“She really _was_ a—”

“Right, right, got it.”

Balthus takes the hint then, his right hand touching his neck, where the cable rope abraded his skin earlier. Then he meets Claude’s eyes again, declaring, “You know what? I like you, Claude. You’re a pretty cool guy. I’d like to face you in a fight one day.”

Claude gives him a small smile. “Well, maybe one day I’ll get strong enough to actually face the Great King of Grappling head on,” he replies. “For now, I’ll take my leave.” He turns to step out again but Balthus stops him.

“Hey wait! Aren’t you trying to do this for Hilda?”

Claude immediately pivots. “Ah right, one thing,” he says. “ _Don_ _’t_ tell her I came by.”

To this, Balthus shakes his head, putting up his hands in defeat. “No can do. I won’t make promises that I know I won’t keep. What if Hilda asks? I can’t just lie to her or not tell her — she’s Holst’s little sister!”

“Well if it ever comes up, just call me… the Sleep Strangler.”

Balthus considers this. “Okay, okay. I like the alliteration. Sleep _Strangler_ ,” he practices on his tongue in different intonations. “ _Sleep_ Strangler. _The_ Sleep Strangler!”

Claude pauses and thinks for a moment, his finger cupping his chin. “Actually,” he says. “Why don’t you tell her about the Sleep Strangler? And then come back to tell me what she thinks about this Sleep Strangler, of course.”

Balthus frowns, confused. “You mean just what she thinks about someone that tried to strangle me in my sleep?”

“Yeah. Exactly,” Claude says. “Just tell me what she says to that, or if she mentions any names.” He tilts his head thoughtfully. “Say, actually. Who else has tried to take you out? Any other Sleep Stranglers?”

“Nope — well, that’s not completely true, just some idiots here and there. But you’re the first of her classmates! I gotta say that I like that you take charge at opportunity when you see it.” Balthus looks at Claude. “Why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

He returns a smile. “I’ll think about it.”

“Well you better do it fast! I can’t call you the Sleep Strangler forever!” Balthus warns him. “Hilda will definitely get curious and ask questions and she somehow always gets the answer out of me! I can’t keep secrets from her!”

Suddenly, Claude throws a small pouch at him. Reflexively, Balthus catches it, and the cheery sound of — is that the sound of coins?

“How long will that buy me?”

Balthus practically tears into the pouch, almost breaking the string tie.

Thinking, thinking… Maybe those coins for food, those coins for alcohol, those coins for tipping the bartenders…

Balthus picks up his head. “Three days,” he declares.

Claude does a little mental math as well. “Alright then,” he says, after a moment. “There’s plenty more where that came from. Just… try to keep it together — or you might find yourself in a _lot_ more debt.”

Just the _word_ makes Balthus shudder.

Balthus pockets the coins. “Noted,” he says.

**Author's Note:**

> "i always knew i was my own worst enemy"
> 
> mood, balthus. 
> 
> find me on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/napsbeforesleep)


End file.
